


Borderline

by xCrossbonesx (StarSpangledBucky)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aussie!Jack, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Just Married, M/M, Married Couple, Moving In Together, Sappy, Slang, Talks About Adopting A Dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 07:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/xCrossbonesx
Summary: Sometimes the quiet moments are the best kind.





	Borderline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts), [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).



> For my two favourite people, Candace and Logan. Love you both muchies, and for keeping me sane when people leave stupid comments :P
> 
> Title is from 'Borderline' by Tame Impala, which is what's playing on the stereo during the fic :D

Jack likes to watch the way Brock moves around the house, especially on Sunday mornings. Brock shifts from room to room with ease, a lazy swing in his stride, while a pair of loose hanging shorts rest low on his hips. They’re adorned with different coloured parrots, Jack only bought them as a gag gift, but Brock seemed to love them _a lot._ It’s perfect weather for them too, warm and only a little bit humid, the rays of sunshine slipping through a gap in the curtains that blow in the breeze. He can hear the waves crashing from the lounge room, the beach only a two minute walk away from their apartment. 

He’ll never regret asking Brock to move to Australia with him after they got married, Brock was pretty much sold the first time he ever visited the country. Plus, the Sunshine Coast is also a great place to be in spring before leading into summer, for Brock and Jack, they get to feel it every year. It’s a small apartment, but they’ve made it _theirs,_ with Jack’s mountain of CD’s by the stereo and Brock’s tidy collection of video games near the TV. Everything isn’t unpacked yet, some of it is still in storage, or they still have to make a trip to buy more furniture. There’s a mattress on the floor in the lounge room, because they’re trying to paint the bedroom, _trying_. So the lounge is the next best place, they get the cool air through the windows and it’s still peaceful. 

Jack takes a moment to glance at the kitchen, where boxes are still stacked on the counters. They go out for dinner most nights, or get takeout and bring it back to the apartment to eat on the temporary couch they bought secondhand. He knows they’ll get there eventually, it’s a long drawn out process, they’ve got time. If anything, he wants it to take a long time, if it means he gets to watch Brock all day. Brock tends to the boxes whenever Jack’s knee and back start to ache, leaving him to rest while he wanders around with clothes or a mixed batch of items. Sometimes Jack wishes his body would let him work longer, he often feels guilty that Brock does more work. But Brock always insists that he’s happy to do it, which only adds to Jack’s list of reasons why he loves him. 

Brock appears in Jack’s line of sight again, a small box cradled under his arm and a glass of rosé in his free hand. He deposits the box on a dining chair, swirls the rosé around in the glass, then takes a generous sip. The glass gets placed on a vacant space on the TV unit, before he’s opening the box, revealing stacks of books inside. Brock’s head bobs to the music playing from the stereo and his hips gingerly move from time to time, which gives Jack a bit of a show. His eyes follow Brock, as he starts placing books onto a bookshelf, lining them up neatly as he goes. They’re Jack’s books from when he bought them in America, he said he would only bring a few, that it was no big deal. But again, Brock had them all packed, because he knows that books are special to Jack.

It’s moments like this that Jack appreciates the most, neither of them need to talk, their body language says it all. Jack’s gaze darts down when Brock reaches for a higher shelf, shirt rucking up to flash some skin, that’s marked with a light bruise. He draws in a breath, and thinks back to when he did that, his fingers had pressed into Brock’s skin when they didn’t quite make it to the bedroom. A smirk plays on Jack’s lips, while he aimlessly reaches back to feel for the tear in the couch cushion, where Brock had gripped it too tight. His heart swells with _want_ for a few seconds, until he pulls himself back, there’s plenty of time for that, once everything else is taken care of. He can’t wait for that, for the silence of night to be filled with every gasp, whimper and moan he manages to coax out of Brock. His husband’s so easy to please, but Jack always makes a mental note of what Brock likes, so that he can do better next time. Jack only wants the best for him, he gets sappy sometimes, yet he would literally give Brock the moon and stars if he could. 

Jack’s gaze remains on Brock, watching intently, with his thumb aimlessly peeling the label off a bottle of _Hahn SuperDry._ Brock’s lining the books up by genre, but stops when he reaches for something bigger inside the box. Jack knows what it is simply by the colour of the cover, the ribbon of red down the spine and silver spread across the rest of it. It’s their wedding album, one Brock’s mother had insisted they have, Brock’s brother did go to all the trouble of taking the photos anyway. Brock begins flicking through, as Jack smiles softly at the way his husband’s mouth twitches slightly into a lazy grin. He’s beautiful, Jack always wants him to know that, because the sun catches his skin and he just... _glows._ Apart from when they have small spats, Jack never realised love could feel this good, he’s completely gone for Brock. 

He waits for another minute or two, before he puts his beer down on the coffee table, which is more like two small eskies taped together. The noise draws Brock’s attention away from the album, in favour of locking eyes with Jack. He smiles wider and Jack swears his heart might burst, he can’t quite wrap his head around how he got so lucky. All he does is smile back, then throws a wink at Brock, causing his cheeks to flush pink. Brock's generally a little weak against a classic Rollins wink, he had been the first time they met, so it made Jack preen a little that he still has that effect on him. 

Brock places the album into a free space on the bookshelf, before he turns back to Jack, with an expectant look on his face. Jack tilts his head up, leans back against the couch in a silent invitation, his hands resting low on his thighs. He follows Brock, who picks up his rosé from the TV unit and wanders over to the couch. As if on instinct, Jack's hands move from his lap, as Brock bumps down into his lap. He lets out a soft _‘oof’_ , making Brock snort, his legs hanging over one of Jack's thighs when he decides sitting sideways is most comfortable for him. Jack’s arm wraps around his waist to hold him, his hand squeezing his hip gently, the other stilling on Brock's knee.

“Hi,” he says.

Brock grins.

“Hey Jackie.” 

“Okay?” Jack asks.

“Now I am.” 

Jack chuckles and rubs small circles into Brock’s knee, as he stares at him, losing himself in the hazel eyes looking back at him.

“You’re a beaut.” 

Brock huffs a laugh.

“Thanks handsome,” he replies

Jack leans in to kiss him and is met halfway by Brock, who cups the back of Jack's neck, fingers twining into his hair. He hums against Brock’s mouth, then parts his lips to deepen the kiss, which Brock takes without hesitation. Kissing Brock always feels like the first time, it’s never repetitive or boring, but there's certain quirks that stick. Brock still tends to brush his fingers over the scar on Jack's chin when they do, and Jack always finds his hand slipping under the leg of Brock's shorts to skirt over his thigh tattoo. It pulls a breathy sigh out of him when he does it, he knows Brock’s sensitive there, but Brock knows his husband has sensitive places too. Which is why Jack can’t stop the groan slipping out, when Brock playfully bites his bottom lip and presses his finger into a spot behind his ear. 

“Bloody hell.” 

“That feel good babe?” Brock questions.

Jack’s hand squeezes Brock's thigh tightly.

“You know it does.” 

Brock grins coyly.

“Shouldn't get carried away. Still got a lotta’ shit to unpack.” 

“I know. We’ll get the computer set up tonight,” Jack sighs. 

“Are we going to the animal refuge today?” 

“Yeah, sometime this arvo,” he answers. 

Brock’s fingers brushed some hair away from Jack's forehead.

“I think I’m gonna’ need to bring tissues, you know how I get around dogs,” he murmurs.

Jack laughs.

“There’s a box over there with tissues, it’s chocker.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Brock scoffs.

“Very full.” 

Brock blinks rapidly.

“I’m gonna’ have to get used to this aren’t I?” 

“You’ll be right. I’ll have you sayin’ slang in no time,” Jack encourages.

A hum sounds out in the room, as Brock wrapped his arm around the back of Jack's neck.

“Remember we need to stop by the _bottle-o_ on the way back.” 

Jack’s mouth drops open.

“You’re listening!” he exclaims. 

Brock bursts out into fits of laughter, before Jack silences him with a tender kiss, and another playful squeeze of his thigh.

“I love you,” Brock whispers. 

“Love you too.” 

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” he inquires, standing from Jack's lap to continue putting books away.

Jack grabs his beer to finish it, but it’s warm from sitting in the sun, making his face screw up a little. He pushes himself up from the couch, groaning at the dull ache in his knee, as he walks over to the kitchen to dump his empty bottle in the recycling. 

“Okay Jackie?” he asks.

“Just my knee, I’ll can take more painkillers in an hour.”

Brock nods.

“So about tonight-” Jack pauses, to grab another beer from the fridge. “I was thinkin’ we should go out,” he adds.

“Yeah? Where to?”

Jack shrugs.

“Macca’s run?” 

Brock guffaws.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

Jack’s eyes glisten with mischief, while he sauntered over to Brock and swooped in to steal a kiss. 

“There’s a nice place a few streets down. Good grub too from what I’ve heard.”

“Sounds good, should I dress up or down?” Brock hums.

“Up. Somethin’ that’s easy to take off later,” Jack purrs.

He snakes his arm around Brock’s waist, leaning in to pepper a kiss against his neck, prompting Brock to tilt his head to the side.

“Jack…” he hisses, when his husband nips at his jaw.

Jack only holds Brock tighter against his chest.

”I’m happy you’re here,” he utters.

“You sure everythin's alright? You’re bein’ extra sappy today.”

Brock caresses his fingers over Jack’s hand, as Jack holds him close.

“Yeah, everything’s sweet as.”

They stand in silence for awhile, savouring the moment, until Brock moves away to stand in the opening of the hallway.

“We should get ready for this drive out to the refuge.”

Jack raises an eyebrow at him, looking at the way Brock’s eyes become hooded, his body suddenly going lax. Brock draws his bottom lip between his teeth, and Jack knows exactly what he is implying, a small grin spreading across his face. Usually Jack’s the one to initiate things, yet in the rare moments that Brock does it, Jack falls even more in love with him, the _want_ from before slowly seeping back into him.

“It’s like that is it, love?” 

Brock smirks, steps into Jack’s space, as kisses him with pure fervour and promise, then pulls back to disappear into the ensuite in their bedroom.

“Don’t keep me waitin’ big guy...”

Jack doesn’t.


End file.
